


These Moments (Give Them Back To Me)

by GlindaThropp



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean straight up doesn't remember Cas confessing his love, First Kiss, M/M, despair follow-up, post 15x18, remember how Dean rewrote his purgatory memories? yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 19:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30094068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlindaThropp/pseuds/GlindaThropp
Summary: Cas comes back. Things are okay. They're great, almost, but... they don't talk about it.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 70





	These Moments (Give Them Back To Me)

His face burns hot every time they share a glance, which isn’t often. Castiel can’t bring himself to make eye contact with Dean, and Dean… his gaze is elusive, always just on the edge of where he wants it, skittering off of the sides of Castiel’s face like it can’t find purchase.

“It’s good to have you back, buddy,” Dean says, first thing when he returns home.

They don’t talk about it.

______

“Can I stay?”

“Sure.” Dean doesn’t look up from his book, a cheap paperback instead of an ancient tome of lore. Between his weekly visits, Jack seems to be doing something to keep monsters at bay. Perhaps Chuck had been artificially stimulating monster bloodlust for kicks. Regardless, there wasn’t a case to be found.

“I mean, can I live here? Permanently?”

“If you want,” Dean said simply. Then he frowned. “Sam and Eileen are looking for a house, though, one with a little sunlight. I’m probably going to move out soon, finally get my own place.”

“Oh.” Castiel’s heart sunk. Against his better judgement, he asked, “Where will I go?”

“Wherever you want to. You can stay, you can go…”

“Can I…” he knew what he wanted to say, but the words felt stuck in his throat. “Could I come with you?”

“If you want,” Dean repeated, blandly. It wasn’t exactly the invitation he wanted, but he’d take it.

“I… of course. Thank you, Dean.”

“Anytime,” Dean said, with half a smile into his pulp fiction.

They don’t talk about it.

______

“You’re mad at me,” Cas finally brought himself to say, one evening when they were alone.

“And you aren’t?” For once, Dean seemed like his old self. It was a shame it was all in his decades of bitterness.

“I have done some horrible things in my past, but I am trying to make peace with myself,” Castiel said carefully.

“What? No, Cas, I mean you should be mad at me.”

“I—why? What did you do?” Realistically, there were certainly things he could hold over Dean’s head, but nothing came to mind in that moment.

Dean’s expression was strained, he looked like someone was choking him—though, as usual, the damage was almost certainly self-inflicted. His voice was low when he finally spoke, as though he didn’t even want to hear his own words. “I let you die. Again.”

“You didn’t let me do anything.” If it hadn’t become clear that Dean was already punishing himself, he might have been angered by the suggestion. Though it had obviously led nowhere, he was proud to have said what he’d kept concealed for so long. He couldn’t regret dying to save the man he loved, and to have saved Jack with the deal besides. 

“I couldn’t save you.”

“Because I was saving you.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

Castiel didn’t always understand what Dean was saying, but that was particularly frustrating. “How exactly are you remembering it?”

“We went to Billie’s library. She told us Chuck was the one snapping everyone, but she was pissed because she was dying from the wound I gave her. We tried to run, but… she got you before she ran out of time.”

“That’s… not at all what happened.”

“Pretty sure it is.”

“Dean,” Cas said, seriously. “You really don’t remember?”

“Is there a detail I’m missing, or something? Sorry if I was too busy running for my life and mourning my best friend to retain all the finer points.”

Perhaps Castiel should have some fear that his deathbed love confession wasn’t memorable enough, but he had some familiarity with this particular chain of events. “I love you, but there is something seriously wrong with you.”

Dean stubbornly refused to meet his eyes, and Castiel stubbornly refused to think about what that meant. “Right back attcha, buddy,” he said gruffly.

“Dean, you misremembered leaving Purgatory as well. I understand that rewriting memories can be a response to trauma—”

“Thanks, Dr. Phil, but whatever I’m forgetting can’t be that important.”

“Dean, I love you.”

“You just said that.”

“I am in love with you.”

“Yes, me too, dude—Wait, what? Why would you do that?” His reaction wasn’t quite the same as it had been the last time… his jaw dropped a little lower than previously, and he didn’t seem quite so concerned that either of them was about to be killed by a justifiably angry angel of death. His expression could best be equated to what Metatron’s encyclopedic pop-cultural exchange told him was called a record scratch.

“I had a speech, you know.”

Dean rubbed his forehead. “This conversation is all over the place. Why are you telling me this now?”

“I already told you.”

“I mean, yeah I remember you saying it when you almost died, but you meant like, all of us, right? The whole gang? We’re family.”

“Not really, I threw in the ‘I love all of you’ because I was nervous and concerned about declaring my love for you in front of your Reganite mother—who I barely knew at this point, mind you. No, the other time.”

“What other time?” Castiel just gave him a pointed look. “I think I’d remember—You don’t mean…”

“I just thought you really didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t know what to say. Literally.”

“Can I…” He raised his finger towards Dean’s forehead hesitantly. His powers weren’t what they used to be, they never would be again, but this… This was something Dean needed to know. “It wasn’t your fault. You should know what happened.”

“Vulcan mind-meld. Okay, Cas, I trust you.”

Cas pressed his hand to Dean’s temple and braced himself. This was a relatively fond memory, all things considered, but there was something exceedingly intimate about letting the object of your affections watch you confess your love to him through your own eyes. Castiel was happy to let Dean see himself the way he always had, but he couldn’t help his own embarrassment.

Of course, there was also the fact that this had caused some kind of short-circuit in Dean’s brain the first time around. All he could do was hope this wouldn’t somehow retraumatize him. There was also the potential, less dangerous, but no less real, that knowing the full extent of Castiel’s feelings would permanently damage their relationship. Still. Dean deserved to know. Dean deserved the world.

His fears seemed realized when they left the memory. Dean was crying, silent but heavy tears. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have...,” Cas said, trying to remove his hand.

Dean caught his wrist before he could. For a second, or an eternity, they just looked at each other, finally. Finally. Then, Dean drew the visiting palm to his lips, and—

“What are you doing?” Cas asked.

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted into the knuckles he was gently kissing. “I can stop.” His mouth ghosted over the angel’s fingers.

“Only… if you want to.”

Dean didn’t for some time. Someone’s hands were shaking, maybe both of them were. Eventually, he let their paired hands drop without releasing Castiel’s, still running his thumb along any inch of skin he could reach. “You really love me?”

“Yes. Profoundly.” Cas’s voice was almost a whisper. He had no idea what would happen next. Dean had just… kissed him, in a way. He had hoped for a polite rejection, but expected less than even that. Even in his most depraved fantasies, he’d never imagined this. 

“I’ve always liked your hands,” Dean said absently, bringing them back up to eye level. “They’re… nice.”

“Thank you?”

“Cas, I…” He took a deep breath. “I can’t say it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do.”

“No, Dean. Don’t feel obligated.”

“I do, Cas. Even if I can’t say it, I need you to know. I…” another breath, this one shuddering. “A long time. It’s been a long time. Can I…?” He drew his free hand to Castiel’s cheek.

“I’m dreaming.”

“I can’t be. This is too nice to be one of my dreams.” Before either could say anything else, one of them closed the gap.


End file.
